Love, Lust, and strange little Thought Bubbles
by ailene
Summary: Basically fluff. I'm inserting myself and several of my friends into the Trio's fifth year. One of them can read other character's thought bubbles and all know that they're acting in a fanfic. REALLY FUNNY!


A/N: This is supposedly Harry, Ron, and Hermione's fifth year at Hogwarts. I've taken the liberty of inserting myself and several of my friends as new characters. Please know that this story is mostly intended to be a funny not-quite-RPG for myself and my friends. However, you are welcome to read and review. I'm not a Harry Potter freak, so I may get the occasional fact or spelling wrong. I also have a tendency to make shit up if it sounds cool. Please just tell me about any mistakes, don't flame me! Otherwise, ENJOY!  
  
PS: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, I'm just ripping on them. And although most of this story will be written in third person, I may occasionally throw in one person's point of view, just for fun.  
  
"Christ, Harry!" Ron exclaimed explosively as Harry's filthy form tumbled tumultuously across the cold cobblestones of Diagon Alley. (Isn't the alliteration cool? Ok, ok, I'll stop it.)  
  
"There, there, dear," murmured Mrs. Weasley as she helped Harry to his feet and began to briskly dust the ash off of his robes. "It's not your fault, Harry, some people just don't take well to Floo travel. At least you got out at the right fireplace this time."  
  
A choking sound made Harry look back over at Ron, who was, strangely enough, on his hands and knees and foaming at the mouth. The expression on Ron's face reminded Harry of the slug hex that had backfired onto Ron in their second year at Hogwarts. But the there was all that lather . . . that looked suspiciously like soap . . . .  
  
"Well now Ron, have you learned your lesson?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she returned her attention to her son.  
  
Ron nodded and his mother promptly removed the hex. Ron remained where he was for another minute or so, spitting out the remainder of the soap. "What was that for, Mum? It was only a muggle word!"  
  
"Muggle word or not, cussing is cussing and I will not sit back and let you get away with it," her told him with the air of one reiterating a daily lesson. That finished, she produced the lengthy list (sorry, couldn't resist!) of items they needed for school that year. "Let's see, Ron, you and Harry both need your level three Divination books; The Seer's Curse. You boys will also need your level five books for Charms, Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ginny needs the level four books for those, except that she's taking Deciphering of Magical Runes and Communicating With Magical Beasts instead of Divination and Potions. Well, at least this year there's only one book needed for each class, and with Fred and George buying their own supplies this year, we should have enough money leftover for a big family dinner!"  
  
Fred and George had finally convinced their mother to let them open their joke shop (only via order forms) over the summer. However, this permission carried with it two conditions: One, they had to buy all of their own school supplies with the profits; Two, they could not design, test, manufacture, or store any of their products in the house. The bargain struck, the twins had adopted an abandoned gardening shed, de-gnomed it, and promptly got to work. Orders had been steadily owled in all summer long, and the twins had labored day and night, trying to stock up enough items for them to be able to manage their schoolwork once the fall term began.  
  
"When are we meeting Hermione?" asked Harry, wishing he could remember.  
  
"In about half an hour," came a familiar voice from behind him. Ron's face had gained a strangely lovestruck expression, causing Harry to wonder if Hermione had somehow turned into a goddess over the summer. However, when he turned around, he found Hermione looking much the same as she always had. Then he saw the girl standing shyly beside her.  
  
The object of Ron's new-found adoration was about the same height as Hermione, but more slender and delicate. Her skin was pale as snow, yet had a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Gorgeous eyes and full pink lips dominated her lovely round face. She had white-blonde hair that was pulled back, and when she turned to Hermione, Harry saw that it was in a braid that fell halfway down her back. And he could've sworn that the tip of her ears had just the slightest point to them . . .  
  
Hermione shook her head at Harry and Ron's gawking faces, feeling a twinge of jealousy. Why couldn't they look at her like that? Didn't Ron want to ask her to the ball last year? Hadn't he been insanely jealous when he found out that she'd gone with Viktor? Boys, she thought, shaking her head angrily. Then she cleared her throat and introduced her new friend.  
  
"Harry, Ron . . . Mrs. Weasley?" she called, but the formidable matron had already grown impatient with the boys' gawking and was walking off to get a start on the school shopping. Hermione shrugged. "This is Dunja, she's going to be joining our year, along with a few of her friends. They're from the USA, and their school was destroyed over the summer and so the students got sent to other schools around the world. Hogwarts is getting fifteen new students. It turns out that she's muggle-raised too!"  
  
"Ya, I was adopted, my parents are from Germany, that's were I was born, then we moved to Japan when I was 11, and then to the US when I was 12, so the US Ministry of Magic didn't pick up on me until I was 13, so now I'm two years older than everyone else in my grade," Dunja said brightly. Her voice was bright and cheerful and felt like a summer day. Harry had never thought that someone's voice could do that. At least not a human's voice.  
  
Harry looked at her again, but saw only the slight slant to her eyebrows and the barely distinguishable tip to her ears. And . . . Harry leaned in closer. Was it just him or were her eyes changing colors?  
  
Dunja must've spotted his questioning look, because she explained: "My eyes change color because I'm not completely human. The German Ministry isn't sure who my parents were, but they say that I'm at least one quarter Wood Elf, maybe even half. The Minister also said that I might've also been part Veela, but I think that he was just hitting on me."  
  
Harry nodded and looked over at Ron to find his friend's gaze locked somewhere below Dunja's chin. Trying to save his friend some embarrassment, he elbowed Ron in the ribs. Ron looked at Harry, then at Dunja. He then turned a red that was intriguingly close to the color of his trademark Weasley hair.  
  
Looking back at Dunja, Harry could swear that she was trying not to smile as Ron muttered something about having to use the bathroom and fled the scene. Harry certainly couldn't help chuckling at the fool Ron was making of himself. Of course, Ron's taste's did run towards pale delicate-looking girls, while Harry preferred tan-colored skin and raven-black hair . . . like Cho's.  
  
"Who's the Asian chick?" Dunja asked suddenly, snapping Harry out of his Cho-dreaming.  
  
"Huh?" he blinked, looking around. What Asian chick? Where? Could it be Cho?  
  
"The one floating above your head," Dunja said, pointing.  
  
Harry looked above him and-much to his dismay-saw a little floating thought bubble with Cho's face surrounded by little hearts.  
  
"Cripes!" he yelped, pulling it down and hugging it to his chest so that no one else could see it. He blushed so furiously that it made Ron's mortification look like mild embarrassment. "I thought that thought bubbles were only supposed to be visible to the reader, not other characters!" he accused, trying to cover up his humiliation with anger.  
  
Dunja laughed, a tinkling-bell sound that sent Ron to heaven and back had he been there to hear it. "Don't worry, no one else can see it, just me. That's my special talent, seeing other people's thought bubbles. But I can only see images, I can't read or hear people's thoughts."  
  
"Oh," Harry said, feeling much better now. He held out the thought bubble of Cho at arm's length and studied it for a minute, then showed it to Dunja. "It is a good picture, isn't it?"  
  
Dunja nodded and told him to keep it. Harry was so happy he could've hugged himself. He settled for hugging Dunja and then hugged his thought bubble, just for good measure. Finally, he had a picture of Cho that he could keep in the dormitory without the other boys making fun of him or fear of word getting back to Cho.  
  
"Yes, that does look like a good spot to put it," Dunja nodded, looking above his head. Harry followed her gaze to see a new thought bubble hovering over his head. This one showed Harry sitting in bed with the Cho thought bubble floating just over his feet. The real Harry stared at the ground, hoping that she wouldn't notice exactly what was happening in this particular thought bubble. Of course, as is the case with thought bubbles, thinking about it caused the thought bubble to zoom in on the offending portion.  
  
Harry's face, which had been steadily returning to its normal color, brightened once again. He glanced at Dunja, wondering if she'd seen that or if he'd been lucky enough to have her turn away to talk to Hermione. To his humiliation, she was staring straight at him with a bemused expression on her face. She raised one eyebrow at him and smiled. "Look at it this way, Harry: At least you take care of that under the covers. Your friend Roland was a little more visual."  
  
"How can you be so calm when you see . . . y'know," Harry trailed off, not really knowing if he even wanted to put this into words, much less figure out how. "You didn't even blush!" he blurted out, opting for awkwardness.  
  
Dunja laughed again. "Wait until you meet my friend Jo. Then you'll understand. She's mastered the art of communicating with thought bubbles. Her practical knowledge makes them very . . . educational. It's almost become an art form for her," Dunja sighed, shaking her head. Then her attention was caught by something over Harry's left shoulder, and she broke out in a wide grin. "Speak of the devil. Jo, over here!" she yelled, jumping up and down and waving her arms wildly.  
  
Therefore, the first thing Ron saw upon returning from his palm-blistering bathroom break was Dunja's breasts bouncing to and fro as she jumped up and down. He was transfixed by both the radiance of her smile and the movement of those wondrous breasts. They seemed to call to him, saying: "Ron . . . bounce us . . . jiggle us . . . feel us . . . squeeze us . . . kiss us . . . lick us . . . nibble us . . . fuck us . . ."  
  
Dunja glanced back over at Ron and turned a blinding shade of scarlet, from the roots of her hair to the skin that disappeared into the neckline of her shirt. This quite escaped Harry's notice, as he was more preoccupied with the approach of Dunja's friend. He'd seen girls with short hair before, when helping his aunt with her grocery shopping or doing one of few things he was allowed to accompany the Dursleys into public for. His aunt and uncle would invariably hiss nasty things about how young women nowadays were no longer content with having a man, and were now trying to become men themselves. The girl in front of him might have been enough to give them two respective heart attacks.  
  
Jo, as Dunja had called her, had the hair directly atop her head cut into half-inch razor-sharp black spikes. They glistened evilly, as if suggesting that they were poison-tipped, and had an oily-looking texture. In fact, the spikes almost seemed to be writhing about, as if trying to find as much shadow as possible. The rest of her head was shorn to a barely-there peach fuzz, with the exception of two hanks of jaw-length hair directly above her forehead. Any semblance of respectability those might have granted her were sharply negated by the fact that they were both such a vibrant neon pink that Harry would've bet anything they glowed in the dark.  
  
Jo noticed his gaze and grinned. "The spikes are cool, aren't they? It only goes like this for a few days a month. Then it starts to ooze and I hafta burn it off."  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
Jo sighed and seemed about to launch into some lengthy explanation when she saw the look on Dunja's face. Her eyes lit up and she promptly forgot anything she was going to say to Harry. Jo tilted her head towards Ron with a quizzical look and was rewarded with a small nod from Dunja. She studied Ron for a moment, then turned back to Dunja and raised an eyebrow. Dunja rolled her eyes and shook her head, no. There were several more questioning looks and negative gestures before Harry figured out what was going on. Jo must be trying to guess what Ron's obviously X-rated thought bubble portrayed.  
  
Just as he was having that rare flash of understanding, Jo modified her thought bubble guess and got the satisfaction of watching Dunja turn a shade darker. Humming happily to herself for finding yet another way to make Dunja blush, Jo happily elaborated on her original thought bubble with all the glee of a small child left alone with finger paints. She soon not only had Ron astride Dunja's chest, but also had the weird-looking kid in glasses drilling for oil between her legs, and the bushy-haired girl Dunja met sitting on Dunja's face and making out with the red-haired kid. Then, with an evil smile on her face, Jo made it three-dimensional and had them all floating in midair while an overly eager Elijah Wood with a bad back hair problem pumped away in Dunja's ass.  
  
Jo collapsed in giggles even as Dunja's fist smashed into her arm. "You sick bitch!" roared Dunja, as she viciously attacked Jo's arm and shoulders. Jo only laughed harder. "Pustule-popping pervert! Only you could come up with something like that, you sheep-fucker!"  
  
Gasping for breath and barely able to think, the only comeback Jo could come up with was a flashback to second grade. She wheezed: "I know you are, but what am I?"  
  
There was a growl of fury from deep in Dunja's throat (A/N: Yea, I know all my fellow perverts out there got that one!) and launched herself into ripping Jo a new asshole with increased fervor.  
  
"Ow, dammit, that hurts!" Jo cried as Dunja began her bloody work. Then she realized just what Dunja was trying to do and started wiggling desperately in an attempt to get away. "Oh, no you don't, girl! Do you have any idea how long it took to get rid of the last one?"  
  
Jo finally managed to wriggle away, with the help of Ron and Harry. They held back Dunja, who was now foaming at the mouth and clawing at the air in Jo's direction.  
  
Ron couldn't help wondering if Dunja always foamed at the mouth when she got excited.  
  
  
  
***Meanwhile: Hermione's point of view****  
  
Oh, I can't believe it, of all things I have to be stuck in a stupid fanfiction with an idiotic writer who first made me jealous of a girl that was introduced as my "new best friend," as if I were such a ditz that I would just grab some random girl off the street, talk her ear off and then introduce her to my best friends as "my new best friend." Girls like that are the reason that I don't have any girl friends. I mean, friends that are girls. I'd better be careful; with my luck and this author, I'm likely to be made out as some kind of closet lesbian.  
  
And she just used me to introduce this girl who's going to introduce all of her friends, completely commandeer the attention of Harry and Ron and the whole friggin school, and no one will notice me until they find my dried- out corpse in a remote corner of the library with a book still in hand. How can other characters remember that I exist if the friggin author can't remember that I'm here?  
  
Yep, now that she's used me to introduce all her little pet characters, she's completely forgotten that I'm still in the scene. What a flop this thing is going to be. I just get to twiddle my thumbs over here until she miraculously remembers that I'm here and decides to bring me back into the scene. And oh God, now she's got two characters fighting over something that none of the other characters can even understand; something that even the reader can barely understand. What kind of idea was that, having the ditz who's taking over my spot as female lead be able to read thought bubbles? That just brings this story to a previously unimaginable low. And considering this fanfic, that's pretty low.  
  
And what the hell is this obsession with various sex scenes? Is that a byproduct of the author's mind? Some kind of sick fantasy? Or is she just doing it to get more readers and reviewers? Doesn't she realize that no reader is going to last long enough to get down to the end of the first chapter and review?  
  
God, I wish I was still working for J.K. Rowling. The benefits package may have sucked ass, but at least I was respected and I was one of her pet characters, so no one ever forgot that I was in the scene. This freelance shit is for the birds. I'm outta here.  
  
::Hermione tries to get up and leave, only to discover that her butt is stuck to the seat. Then the Almighty Author steps in to have a word with our little wannabe escapee.::  
  
Author: WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, HERMIONE?  
  
"I'm leaving! How could you forgot that I was even in the scene?! I'm a professional, I refuse to work under these conditions!"  
  
IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK, JABRONI! YOU'RE UNDER CONTRACT, AND YOU'RE NOT LEAVING THIS FANFIC UNTIL IT'S DONE!  
  
"But you completely forgot that I was in the scene! How could you?" Hermione cried, bursting out in tears.  
  
I DIDN'T FORGET YOU! HOW DARE YOU DOUBT ME! IF YOU LOOKED UP FROM ALL YOUR PITY-FEST, YOU'D REALIZE THAT THE ENTIRE LAST PAGE HAS BEEN FROM YOUR POINT OF VIEW!  
  
"Huh? You mean you recorded my thoughts into the fanfic without telling me? You bastard! And what the hell are you doing with those caps?!"  
  
HEY, I'M THE AUTHOR, THAT MAKES ME GOD TO YOU PATHETIC LITTLE CHARACTERS. WHY SHOULDN'T I USE CAPS TO SYMBOLIZE MY GREATNESS?  
  
"Yea, whatever. Look, are you going to keep lecturing me, or are you going to continue the story already? Your little pet characters have been frozen for the last page and a half, and I don't think little Dunja can hold that pose much longer. See, her muscles are trembling from the strain," Hermione pointed out. The Almighty Author looked and saw that Hermione was right.  
  
VERY WELL, I'LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER.  
  
With that, lightening flashed, thunder shook the earth, and that paradigm of perfection, the All-Powerful Author rose from her director's chair, held up her special megaphone and majestically announced: "AND . . . ACTION!"  
  
And thus it is written, and thus it shall be told.  
  
By the time the Almighty Author finished slapping humble Hermione out of her pity-fest, Dunja was so exhausted from the strain of standing still in mid-lunge that she no longer had the energy to continue ripping open and rearranging Jo's bowels. Jo, on the other hand, was in much better shape, as she had been laying on the ground for the entirety of the pause.  
  
"Now Dunja," Jo began patronizingly. "Did you really mean all those delightfully deplorable things you said?"  
  
Dunja just glared at her. "Of course I did. You brought Frodo into it. You NEVER bring Frodo into it!"  
  
Jo leapt up and hugged her, humping her leg in the process. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that! You have just SO made my day!"  
  
"What are you talking about, you crazy bitch?! Get off me!" Dunja shrieked indignantly, trying to escape from Jo's grasping grip (or gripping grasp, depending on how you look at it).  
  
"Uh-oh, Dunja, did you insult Jo again?" came a high-pitched voice from over by Hermione, who started in shock, because she'd been too damn busy feeling sorry for herself to notice the tall, skinny, and thoroughly boob- less Indian girl who'd walked up at some point and has been watching the scene play out since.  
  
Harry, who had decidedly more of an excuse not to notice her, (as he'd been holding Dunja when Jo began her show of loving exuberance and was therefore caught somewhere in the middle) was nonetheless the most pissed out of all of them to have missed her approach. Although the stranger was a bit on the gangly side (Author snorts, trying not to laugh) and just a bit lacking in the chest department (Author loses battle to contain laughter and collapses in hysterics), her heart-shaped face bubbled with enthusiasm and innocence. And as she smiled broadly at her friends, he could've sworn that the sunlight caused her eyes to literally sparkle. He felt a small thought bubble pop into existence above his head as he envisioned the two of them running through a field of flowers, as she giggled and held his hand, her loose summer dress blowing artfully in an imaginary breeze.  
  
Dunja took one look at that particular thought bubble and promptly exploded in hysterics.  
  
Jo sent a questioning look to Dunja, who received it, opened the envelope, read it, and could only shake her head, unable to breathe. "Field . . . flowers . . ." she gasped, then looked back over at Harry, who had remained conveniently oblivious to Dunja's outburst, and redoubled over in laughter.  
  
Lalita looked confused. Now the reader looks confused, as well as all the other characters. Jo realizes that the Author needs more caffeine and takes charge of the situation.  
  
"Hey, everybody, the skinny chick is our friend, Lalita, also known as La- La Gurl. She's Indian, as in from India, but she's a wuss when it comes to spicy curries. Lalita, this is Harry, Hermione, Roland, and Dunja. And of course, there's me, Jo."  
  
That finished Jo went back over to Dunja, and continued trying to figure out what Harry was thinking. She realized that it was something to do with a field of flowers, so at first she had them fucking in a field of flowers when Lalita realized that she was allergic to them and sneezed her way through the rest of it. Dunja could only shake her head, as tears of mirth ran down her face and she shrieked and thrashed as if she was being mercilessly tickled.  
  
At last, Dunja just reached over to Jo, took firm hold of her shoulder, and used a little of her magic to send a bit of her talent to Jo and let her see what see what Dunja was seeing. Soon Jo was also rolling around on the ground and squealing like a stuck pig. Lalita just looked at them. Seeing the confusion on her friend's face, Jo managed to roll over to Lalita, wheezed against her foot for a moment, then pulled herself together long enough to rest her cheek against Lalita's leg and pass on the little bit of Dunja talent. The look on Lalita's face was enough to make both Jo and Dunja dissolve once more.  
  
Hermione and Ron were unfortunately left out of the loop, as the Author's pet characters were the only ones that really mattered in the story now.  
  
Harry finally snapped out of it when Fred clapped him heartily on the back. "Well Harry, aren't you going to introduce us to your new friends?" he asked, leering at Jo, Dunja, and Lalita.  
  
George was a little more polite, as he stepped up and introduced himself. "Hello ladies, I'm George, might I have the pleasure of your names?"  
  
Jo and Dunja's laughter was still dying down, so Lalita introduced the three of them. "I'm Lalita, these are my friends Dunja and Jo. Who're you?"  
  
"We're Ron's brothers," Fred told her, trying to get his foot in the door as well.  
  
Then George caught the lovesick look on Ron's face, and leaned over toward Fred. "X-nay on the blonde-nay," he whispered.  
  
Fred looked momentarily confused, but then followed George's nod and saw what he meant. "Oh, so that means that there's two left, one for each of us-oh," he stopped, catching the look on Harry's face. "Well damn," he muttered, as each of them eyed Jo, wondering which one would manage to talk her into the sack first. Little did they know . . . .  
  
Jo finally stopped laughing, wiped the tears from her eyes, and looked up at the two newcomers. Then she saw they were twins . . . .  
  
Dunja, who was after five years more than used to such thought bubbles from Jo, simply rolled her eyes. However, Lalita, although she knew that Jo often had such thoughts running through her mind, was completely unprepared for a visual. The resounding shriek was deafening as she stared at Jo and the thought bubble hovering over her friend's head. There was so much horror and disgust plastered onto her face that her bottom lip trembled under the strain. "Jo!" she shrieked, as she stared at the sweaty lump comprised of Jo and twins.  
  
"What?" Jo asked, completely bewildered. This wasn't an intentional thought bubble, simply a byproduct of an over-sexed mind. As she looked up and saw what the previously naive Lalita had been forced to witness, a grin broke out over her face. "Yea, that does look like fun, doesn't it?"  
  
Lalita simply stared, her knees collapsing under the sheer weight of her nausea. "You don't even know them!" she shrieked.  
  
"Um, what's going on?" asked Fred as he and George hurried over to help the fallen Lalita. Unable to help herself, she shoved the little bit of Dunja talent into Fred, who was the first to touch her. When he looked around, he saw all of their thought bubbles; Ron doing and multitude of things to Dunja; Harry and his field of flowers fantasy; George imagining what Jo's tits would look like; and then Jo's sweaty thought bubble of the three of them.  
  
The look of relief on Lalita's face told Jo that the talent bit had been passed on, and from the bulge in the one twin's pants, she guessed that it had gone to him. She smiled saucily at him and winked. He grinned as only a teenage boy who has realized he's going to get laid can grin.  
  
Dunja looked from one thought bubble to the next and sighed as Fred whispered something to George, and then when George looked confused, he leaned over and pushed the little bit of talent into his twin. Then George got an identical grin on his face.  
  
"Boys," she muttered, as she walked over to George and sucked the little bit of talent back to where it belonged. Then she looked back over at Jo and sighed again. "Jo, what are we going to do with you?"  
  
"I know what we're going to do with her!" Fred voiced enthusiastically.  
  
"Hell yea!" chorused George. They picked up Jo, who was grinning like the cat that licked up all the cream (or was about to . . . ), and carried her over to the nearest fireplace to Floo home while the house was deserted.  
  
Dunja and Lalita simply shook their heads, while Ron looked after his brothers with obvious disgust. Harry managed to shake himself out of his field-of-flowers daydream when Mrs. Weasley returned and yelled that while they'd all been lazy sloth's, she finished their school shopping and found Ginny. She was introduced to Dunja and Lalita and told that their friend Jo had just left and would probably turn up in a day or two.  
  
Of course, Mrs. Weasley asked impatiently if anyone had seen Fred or George, which produced a lot of discreet coughs as the group denied having seen the twins.  
  
Then Mrs. Weasley offered to treat Harry and Ron's new friends (she-being a mother of seven-was shrewd enough to recognized the looks of pure adoration being sent to Dunja and Lalita by Ron and Harry respectively) to dinner with the rest of the family at the Leaky Cauldron, where they were all staying the night. Off they all went, to finish off their individual fun school shopping.  
  
Hermione, who had once again been forgotten by the Author, sighed, closed her book and hoped that someone would remember to at least put her on the Hogwarts Express.  
  
Then the Author heard her sigh, looked back from the group and groaned.  
  
OOPS.  
  
  
  
A/N: Hey, I hope you guys enjoyed that, especially my friends. There may end up being a lot of inside jokes from me and my friends and if any of my friends read this, can you please review on the site instead of just emailing me? That way I'll look more important, y'know? Anyways, if any of y'all have ideas for the next chapter, which is going to take place on the Hogwarts Express (I'm debating whether or not I should forget Hermione, after all, she did mouth off to me . . . ::laughs evilly::) just put them in your reviews and I'll consider them! Until next time!  
  
PS: My friends that I've inserted so far are based on my real friends, except for Jo, who is based on Marvelous ME! And, just because I want the world to know this; yes, the style described in this fic is my real hairstyle (except for the black spikes thing). There are half inch spikes just on the top of my head, except that they're brown (my natural hair color) although gel does make it look almost black. It obviously doesn't ooze, unless I forget to wash it for a couple of weeks . . . but I'll be nice and not go into detail about that! Oh yea, and if y'all could be so kind as to check out my other fic-in-progress, "Favorites," (it's also a Harry Potter fic, but much more serious) and review it, that'd be GREAT! Ok, that's it for my shameless self-promotion, see y'all next chapter!  
  
AND DOES ANYONE KNOW HOW TO GET ITALICS ONTO FANFIC.NET??!!! IT WON'T LET ME UPLOAD THEM!!!! ARGGGGG!!!!!! 


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